


today we're younger than we're ever gonna be

by starrydrowse



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Smut, They just love each other a lot, also ronnie is a lesbian and shes dating dom beacause this is my fic i can do what i want, did i mention birthday sex?, heat waves, it's not really somno but somebody gets woken up with a blowjob so just be aware of that lol, john and ronnie are best friends, john is a very good boyfriend, poor things they just wanna bang, very very minor somnophilia, very very slight mentions of homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrydrowse/pseuds/starrydrowse
Summary: “What’s this for?” Roger asks sleepily, brushing John's fringe back where it’s falling in his eyes.John hums, pulling back with a soft smile. “Happy birthday, Rog."A slow smile spreads on Roger’s face. “Oh, yeah.”*Or, Roger's birthday doesn't go according to plan. They make the most of it anyway.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36





	1. chapter one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends!! i originally started writing this fic back in july but ended up scrapping it because i didn't like it hahaha, i picked it up again a couple months ago and started reworking it and i'm finally here with this!! this fic is going to be three chapters long, all taking place over the course of Roger's 23rd birthday, and it's a modern au. i absolutely adore modern au dealor but for some reason i never write them, so i had a lot of fun with this one hahaha. i'm actually really pleased with how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> big thank you as usual to my sweet friend finn for helping me edit and hyping me up through writing this whole thing, go check them out on [tumblr](https://peachydeacon.tumblr.com) and [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachydeacon/pseuds/peachydeacon) :)
> 
> tite is from the song small town moon by regina spektor

When John wakes on the morning of Roger’s birthday, Roger is still fast asleep beside him. The sound of his breathing is soft and steady in the quiet of the room, and the sunlight spilling in through the window is making John’s skin feel warm and flushed. The heat wave that had hit London a few days prior is still going strong, and despite it still being early in the morning, the air in their bedroom already feels heavy and humid. 

They’d fallen asleep last night on opposite sides of the bed, too sick with the heat to even entertain the idea of touching, but as John slowly comes to he realizes he can feel Roger now pressed against his back, an arm thrown over his waist. It’s funny, the way Roger seems to gravitate towards him even in sleep; it’s somehow even endearing when John has to spit a chunk of Roger’s hair from his mouth.

It’s only a quarter to nine, and the heat isn’t enough yet suffocating enough to warrant peeling himself away from Roger, so John just sighs sleepily and shifts back a little closer, smiling when Roger makes a quiet, content sound in his sleep. John closes his eyes, settling in in hopes of getting a few more winks of sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come, though, and instead John finds his mind wandering. It wanders from his summer classes, to his shift at work that afternoon, to how much longer it’ll be until they’ve saved up enough to start recording their first album. All four of them have been taking extra shifts wherever they can get them to pay for the studio time, and between that, playing gigs every weekend, the endless rehearsals, and the extra classes he’s been taking to finish up his engineering degree, John feels like he’s been operating at maximum capacity non-stop for the better part of a year now. It’s exhausting.

Which is why slow, quiet mornings like this mean the world to John. Neither he nor Roger have anywhere to be until John’s shift starts at noon, which is still hours away yet. Of course, he’d rather not have to work on Roger’s birthday at all, but if he must, he’s at least glad that it’s an afternoon shift and they can spend the morning together. 

Except Roger is still asleep.

John should let Roger rest, it would be the nice thing to do for his boyfriend on his birthday. But John is bored, and he misses Roger despite being right next to him, and he’d like to actually be able to spend their rare lazy morning in bed _together_. As John lies there debating the morality of waking his boyfriend up on his birthday just because he’s bored, a second, naughtier, idea occurs to him. John’s stomach flutters as the idea takes root, and when he looks over at Roger— soft and pretty in sleep just like he always is— John knows he has no choice.

It is Roger’s birthday, after all.

Ever so carefully John extracts himself from Roger, almost holding his breath as he removes Roger’s arm from around his waist and shifts away from him. Roger’s breathing changes for a moment and John goes still, watching carefully to make sure he doesn’t wake. But Roger only snores softly and rolls onto his back, settling again with a quiet sigh. Roger has always been a heavy sleeper, and this is the one time that’s worked to John’s advantage.

As John shifts a little further down on the bed, kicking the sheets down with him as he goes, he takes a long moment to let himself admire the view. Roger is all soft, bare skin laid out on the sheets under him, fast asleep and breathing softly, and John thanks whatever god might happen to be listening that the two of them have started sleeping naked since the heat wave hit. Jesus, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing Roger like this.

John settles on the bed, pressed up against Roger’s hip with his head near the bottom of his stomach. Pushing his hair out of his face, John licks a strip up his hand, before carefully curling it around Roger’s length and stroking him slowly from base to tip. Roger is soft, but it isn’t long before long John feels him starting to harden in his hand. He smiles to himself, pleased, and squeezes his fist a little tighter to stroke Roger more firmly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the head.

Roger makes a soft sound, close to a whimper, but when John glances up he finds him still fast asleep. He leans in closer, his hand still moving around the base, and sucks the head of Roger’s cock into his mouth. Roger makes another low sound in his throat as John bobs his head slowly, hollowing his cheeks as he sinks down just a little.

Roger’s hips jerk slightly, and John uses his arm to hold him down as he flattens his tongue, dragging it along the vein on the underside of his cock. Roger is fully hard now, hot and heavy against his tongue, and John’s eyes flutter shut as he hums softly and sucks. Pulling back, he takes a moment to suckle on the head and swirl his tongue over the slit, already tasting Roger starting to leak against his tongue. He sighs through his nose, taking a second to relax his throat and get his breathing right before he starts to sink down, taking as much of Roger as he can before it starts to get uncomfortable. 

He can take Roger all the way to the base when he really tries, but it’s still early and John’s head is still feeling rather fogged with sleep, and while he loves his boyfriend very, very much, deepthroating him barely 15 minutes after waking up isn’t quite at the top of the list of things John was planning on doing today. So he just takes as much as he can before he starts to gag and then stops, flattening his tongue and starting to bob his head slowly, working his fist over what he can’t reach.

John can’t deny that he loves this. He’s always loved sucking Roger off, but there’s something about waking him up with a blowjob that never fails to make his head spin. Any kind of morning sex, really; there’s just something about Roger when he’s warm and pliant and sleepy like this that makes John’s heart flutter and arousal pool between his hips. He lets himself get lost in the feeling of Roger warm and heavy on his tongue, swallowing around him and hearing his breathing get more and more shallow, but he doesn’t realize Roger has woken up until a gentle hand settles in his hair.

“John,” Roger sighs.

John opens his eyes to see Roger looking down at him through his lashes, a red flush dusting the apples of his cheeks. John blinks up at him, hollowing his cheeks and slowly pulling back to kitten lick over the tip of his dick as Roger’s mouth falls open.

“Oh, shit,” Roger groans, closing his eyes and tipping his head back into the pillow. _“Baby.”_

John wraps his lips around the head and _sucks_ , his hand still working Roger over in slow, steady strokes. Roger’s voice is low and gravelly like it always is in the mornings in a way that makes a delicious sort of heat pool in John’s stomach, and he wonders absentmindedly whether Roger will be able to go again in time fuck him before they have to get up if he makes him come now.

Roger strokes his hair lazily, brushing his fringe back where it’s falling in his eyes. “What’s this for?” he mumbles sleepily.

John hums, pulling back and removing his lips with a soft, wet _pop._ He smiles, pressing slow, gentle kisses up the shaft. “Happy birthday.”

A slow smile spreads on Roger’s face. “Oh, yeah.”

“Did you forget?” John laughs softly, rubbing circles over the head with the pad of his thumb. “Twenty-three,” he sighs dreamily. “How does it feel?”

“Well right now it feels pretty fucking incredible."

John hides his pleased smile by wrapping his lips around Roger again. He lets himself get lost in it, falling into a steady rhythm of sucking and licking as Roger’s fingers stroke through his hair, occasionally tightening ever so slightly when something feels especially good. The wet sounds of it mix with the soft moans and gasps spilling past Roger’s lips to fill their bedroom.

“S’good,” Roger breathes. “ _Really_ good, Deaks. Christ baby, your mouth.”

John hums, the vibrations making Roger groan lowly in the back of his throat. He blinks up at Roger through his eyelashes, giving his best doe eyes as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, hard. Roger’s hand tightens in his hair for a moment as he gasps, letting his head tip to the side to face their bedside table. Suddenly, his whole body freezes and his eyes widen in horror when he sees the clock.

“Oh, _shit_.”

Roger is suddenly scrambling to get up under him, and John quickly pulls away in shock to let him. He sits up on his knees and watches wide-eyed as Roger clambers off the bed, his mind racing and a heavy pit of anxiety taking root in his chest.

“Rog?” John asks, alarmed.

“Shit,” Roger is muttering to himself as he stumbles towards the dresser, “shit shit shit shit—”

“Roger?” John asks again, more clearly, an edge of panic in his voice. Did he do something wrong? Did he hurt Roger, somehow?

Roger sighs, digging around haphazardly in the top drawer of the dresser, groaning loudly in frustration when he doesn’t immediately find what he’s looking for. “I’m late for work,” he says finally. “I’m _so_ late, _shit_ —”

John blinks slowly, his sluggish brain struggling to catch up with what’s going on. “I— you’re working today?”

“I was supposed to open the shop at 9.”

John glances over at the dinky little analog clock on their bedside table. It reads _9:21._

“Oh,” is all he manages to say, still a little stunned by the sudden change of pace. 

“Must’ve forgotten to set the bloody alarm,” Roger is mumbling to himself, frantically opening and closing drawers in search of his work uniform, “god, _stupid_ —”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” John says finally, before his eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Wait, I thought you were taking your birthday off?”

“I was supposed to,” Roger sighs, finally finding his black jeans half strewn over the edge of the clothes hamper and pulling them on, jumping a few times to get them over his hips, “but Reid asked me to take the morning shift today, and I know we could really use the money so I said yes. Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to tell you.”

He glances over at John as he zips up his trousers, sighing unhappily. John can only assume he looks rather pitiful and dejected, kneeling there naked on the bed with his hair a mess and his lips red and swollen, because Roger darts over to give him a quick kiss.

“I’m sorry love,” he frowns, “I should’ve told you, I didn’t mean to ruin your plans or anything.”

John waves him off, shaking his head as Roger steps away again to look for his shirt. “It’s alright,” he says, pushing down the small twist of disappointment deep in his gut as the possibility of a nice, relaxing morning with just the two of them is pulled out from under him. “If anything, I should be apologizing to you for getting you all interested and leaving you hanging,” he laughs a little, eyeing the obvious bulge in Roger’s trousers.

It’s only then that Roger seems to realize he’s still, in fact, incredibly hard. He follows John’s eyes down to where his erection is straining obscenely against the fabric of his jeans, before he curses and sets to work trying to adjust himself, trying his best to tuck it into his waistband. John giggles at the sight as he finally gets up, snagging his bathrobe from where it’s hanging on the closet door and slipping it on.

“Finish getting ready,” he says, “I’ll see if I can’t scrounge up some breakfast for you to bring with you.”

“God, you’re an angel,” Roger mutters, smacking a thankful kiss to his cheek as John smiles.

He slips out the door, padding down the hallway to the kitchen. Brian is already up and dressed, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and his laptop open in front of him. 

“Morning,” John says, hearing Roger dart out of the bedroom somewhere behind him and sprint to the bathroom.

“Morning, Deaky.”

John wanders over to the cupboard, opening it to look inside. And then he looks in the other cupboard, and then the fridge, searching for anything quick and easy he can send Roger off to work with so he doesn’t starve. And as he looks, he has to push down the wave of irritation that rises in his chest when he realizes that they don’t have any food.

_Again._

Living with three other men has gotten John fairly used to this, but it will never stop being one of the most frustrating things in the world. John loves them all dearly, but neither Roger nor Freddie would _ever_ think to do the shopping on their own— in fact the two of them would probably starve to death before it even occurred to them to go to the grocery store. Brian thinks of it sometimes, but whenever they send him off to the grocery on his own he always comes back with bags full of only the pure, organic, vegetarian stuff, and nothing else. John can appreciate a good vegetarian meal every now and again, but frankly he would rather off himself than have to eat that exclusively, which means Brian has officially been banned from doing the shopping on his own. 

Which of course means that the responsibility of buying food so the four of them don’t starve to death has fallen on John’s shoulders. And with everything that’s been going on, John hasn’t had _time_ to do the shopping. 

And so they have no food.

“Why isn’t there anything to eat?” John sighs, staring into the empty fridge.

Brian doesn’t say anything, typing away furiously on his laptop. John rolls his eyes.

“Brian?”

“Hm?” Brian glances over, blinking at him.

John pushes down the urge to pinch him. “We have no food,” he repeats.

“We never have any food,” Brian mutters, turning back to his laptop and continuing typing. When John doesn’t answer, clearly unimpressed with his response, Brian waves his hand in the air in the vague direction of the cupboard above the refrigerator. “I think I’ve still got some fruit and nut bars up in that cupboard if you’re desperate.”

“Did you put them up there so nobody would take them?” John asks curiously. That cupboard is mostly used to store random household clutter, not food. 

Brian just sips his tea and doesn’t answer.

John shakes his head, leaning up on his tiptoes to open the cupboard. He pushes through the jumble of spare flashlights and duct tape and various cleaning supplies they’d bought and only used once, before his hand finally lands on a small pile of bars. He takes one down, glancing at the label.

_All natural Fruit ’n Nut bar with dried prunes, raisins, walnuts, and coconut! Now with added fibre._

John wrinkles his nose. The only way Roger would ever eat this thing would be at gunpoint, and maybe not even then.

“You really think anyone wants to steal these?” He raises his eyebrows at Brian, who once again chooses to ignore him. John sighs, tossing the bar down onto the countertop.

The bathroom door opens then, and Roger comes barreling down the hall. He thankfully looks at least a little more put together— there’s still a red flush to his cheeks that screams ‘ _I was getting sucked off five minutes ago_ ,’ but at least he’s brushed his hair. He breezes past the kitchen to the doorway, shoving on his shoes.

“Happy birthday Rog,” Brian calls, and Roger shoots him a grin as he straightens back up.

“There’s nothing here to eat, I’m sorry,” John tells Roger apologetically, reaching up to fix his collar where it’s tucked into the neckline of his shirt. “I’ll pop by the café and bring you some breakfast in a half hour or so, yeah?” 

Roger leans in and gives him a brief kiss. “You’re the best, you know that right?”

“Well I did make you late on your birthday,” John says, smoothing his hands down the front of Roger’s shirt a few times in an attempt to even out the wrinkles. “Sort of seems like the least I could do.”

Roger waves him off, squirming away from John’s best efforts to make him look a little more presentable. “You didn’t know I was working, _and_ I’m the one who forgot to set an alarm,” he counters, pulling on his denim jacket.

John can’t deny that, but it still doesn’t stop him from feeling a little guilty.

“You’re going to roast in that,” he says pointedly, watching Roger adjust his jacket in the mirror beside the door. “It’s going to be really hot today.”

“Yeah, but it makes me look cool,” Roger winks at him in the mirror.

“If by ‘cool’ you mean ‘gay.’”

Roger laughs brightly. They both know he’s right, of course; it’s a denim jacket for christ’s sake, covered in all sorts of political pins and patches and flowers that Freddie embroidered.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Roger grins. “God, imagine being mistaken for a heterosexual. I could never.”

John’s head tips back as he laughs, and when Roger surprises him with another kiss John is still smiling against his lips.

“We’ll finish what we started later, yeah?” Roger asks lowly, his hands sliding down John’s waist to his hips. 

Brian coughs awkwardly from the kitchen table, but they both ignore him.

John giggles. “Yes, yes. Now _go,_ ” he stresses, pushing Roger towards the door. “You’re _so_ late.”

Roger grins, gives him one last quick kiss goodbye, and then darts out the door and down the hallway toward the stairwell. 

John shakes his head, still smiling as he closes the door behind Roger. After a moment he wanders back to the kitchen, scratching absently at his stomach as he pulls out the chair beside Brian and sits down heavily with a sigh, causing Brian to finally glance up from his laptop.

“You’re up early,” John says, stifling yawn.

“I’ve got a paper due Wednesday,” Brian sighs, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face, “and since I’m losing tonight to drinking and tomorrow to a hangover, I figured I should get as much of it done now as I can before this afternoon.”

“Are you working later?”

Brian shakes his head. “I’m just going out with Fred to get some things for tonight.”

“Oh. Make sure you stop for booze, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s number one on the list,” Brian nods. “Who’s all coming over again?”

“Uh…” John looks up at the ceiling, trying to think. “Well there’s us four, plus Freddie’s bringing Jim so that’s five… plus Ronnie and Dom, and then Crystal, Ratty, and Jobby makes what, ten? Oh, and Chrissie, so that’s eleven.”

Brian laughs sharply in surprise, before quickly shaking his head. “No, Chrissie isn’t coming. That’s off again.”

_“Again?”_

“Mhm. _Really_ off.”

“Jesus.” John shakes his head. He barely even bothers trying to suppress his amused grin; at this point it seems like Brian and Chrissie are breaking up at least once a month. “Well, uh, I’m sorry?”

“Don’t.”

“Okay,” John laughs.

Brian groans loudly, tipping his chair back and running his hands through his unruly hair. “Why do I keep doing this to myself John?” he sighs.

John is quiet for a few beats. “Actually, why _do_ you keep doing this to yourself?” he finally asks curiously. “What is this, the eighth time you two have broken up?”

“Actually it’s the ninth,” Brian says lightly. “And my therapist says it’s consistent with my regular pattern of self-destructive behaviour, so do with that what you will.”

He’s grinning when he says it, and when John laughs Brian laughs along with him. At least he’s got a sense of humour about it. After a long moment John sighs, pushing his chair back from the table to stand, leaving Brian to his schoolwork and heading back to his bedroom to get dressed.

He throws on a pair of jeans and a baggy t-shirt he’s pretty sure used to belong to Roger’s sister, tucking it in and adding a belt just to make himself look a little more put together. By the time he’s washed his face and brushed his hair and teeth, it’s already been nearly twenty minutes since Roger left. John tries to pick up the pace, searching around for his apron and work shoes and throwing them in his backpack to take with him. Pulling on his boots by the entryway, John shouts a quick goodbye to Brian, and then is out the door before he can even hear Brian’s response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it!! the next chapter will be up soon, but in the meantime feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought :^) also come hang out with me on tumblr [@starrydrowse](https://starrydrowse.tumblr.com/) <3


	2. chapter two

Hurrying down the hallway to the stairwell, John pulls his phone out to let Roger know he’s on the way.

**_John:_ ** _running late with the food, got caught up talking to Bri. be there soon x_

He puts his phone away, but feels it buzz only a few seconds later as a text comes in from Roger. And then another. And another. John pulls his phone back out, shouldering open the door to the stairwell.

**_Rog:_ ** _typical_

**_Rog:_ ** _you care more about talking to Brian than delivering food to your starving boyfriend_

**_Rog:_ ** _and on my birthday, no less_

**_Rog:_ ** _unbelievable. we’re breaking up_

John smiles down at his phone. He looks up for just long enough to make it down the stairs without breaking his neck before texting back.

**_John:_** _a_ _h, well. we had a good run_

He gets a reply immediately.

**_Rog:_ ** _eh._

**_Rog:_ ** _it was alright i guess_

John’s grin widens as he shoulders open the front door of the building. As soon as he steps outside, the heat hits him like a brick wall. It’s so hot it’s almost suffocating, the sun bearing down on him from the sky, and he thanks his lucky stars that he actually remembered to put on sunscreen for once. Thankfully, Roger’s favourite café is only a short walk from the flat, and the record shop where he works is only a few blocks past that.

Coincidentally, Roger’s favourite café just so happens to be the very same café where John works— where they first met, in fact. Roger had stumbled in on a snowy January afternoon about a year and a half ago with his cheeks flushed pink from the cold and melting snowflakes in his hair and that Prince Charming sort of smile, and really John never stood a chance. Naturally, he’d made a fool of himself— he burnt his hand steaming the milk for Roger’s latte and then proceeded to knock the entire bloody cup over onto the counter and the floor, before spending the next five minutes tripping over apologies with flaming cheeks as he cleaned it up.  John still doesn’t know what could’ve possessed Roger to ask for his number that day, but god is he glad that he did.

Starting off on the familiar walk to the café, John turns his attention back to his phone. 

**_John:_ ** _i don’t suppose there’s anything that could convince you to change your mind?_

Once again, Roger replies only a few seconds later. It must be a slow morning at the record shop.

**_Rog:_ ** _there’s only one thing in the entire world that can convince me to stay_

**_Rog:_ ** _actually, two things_

**_John:_ ** _oh? name your demands_

**_Rog:_ ** _an everything bagel with cream cheese_

**_Rog:_ ** _and an iced coffee_

**_Rog:_ ** _these are my terms. take it or leave it_

John giggles to himself.

**_John:_ ** _oh god… this might be the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do_

**_John:_ ** _but i suppose i could make it work. for you._

John watches the typing bubble pop up, his eyes bright with amusement.

**_Rog:_ ** _hmm_

**_Rog:_ ** _alright_

**_Rog:_ ** _we’re back together_

**_John:_ ** _phew. that was a close one_

**_Rog:_ ** _i know, that was awful_

**_Rog:_ ** _lets never break up again_

John knows it’s only part of the bit, but he can’t help the way the last message makes his heart flutter in his chest.

**_John:_ ** _it’s a deal._

Roger replies with an array of various heart emojis, and John snorts. Looking up, he realizes that his feet have already carried him all the way to the café.

**_John:_ ** _getting the food now, be there soon <3_

He pockets his phone, stepping inside as the little bell above the door chimes.

It’s coming up on 10:00 now, that sweet spot where the breakfast rush has ended and the lunch rush hasn’t yet begun, so it isn’t busy inside the shop. There are only four or five tables filled, mostly students around John’s age hunched over their laptops with half-drunk coffees beside them. Ronnie is behind the counter fiddling with something at the register, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown. She glances up when the bell rings, and her face lights up when she sees John approaching.

“Hey!” she exclaims. After a second, her expression turns to one of confusion, and she spins around to check the clock mounted on the wall above the espresso machine. “I thought you weren’t on until twelve?”

“I’m not, I’m just here to pick up some breakfast for Rog,” John explains. Then it’s his turn to look confused. “I thought _you_ weren’t on until later? Aren’t we working together this afternoon?”

“I switched for an earlier shift,” Ronnie explains, “Dom’s niece’s birthday party is this afternoon and she really wanted me to come.”

“Who’d you switch with?”

Ronnie pauses for a beat, her expression suddenly turning guilty as she glances down at the countertop, picking at a small dent in the stainless steel. It tells John everything he needs to know.

“No,” he groans.

“I’m sorry,” Ronnie grimaces. “It’s only for a few hours!”

“You’re making me work with _Prenter_?”

“Come on John, he isn’t _that_ bad.”

“He is that bad, actually.”

Ronnie sighs heavily, her hands on her hips as she chews the inside of her cheek. “Okay fine, he is that bad,” she concedes finally. “But Jada is turning six, I can’t miss it! It’s only a five hour shift, you’ll survive.”

“Maybe,” John grumbles.

Ronnie rolls her eyes. “I don’t get off until 1:00 anyway, so you’ll still have me for an hour before you’ve got to be alone with him.”

John feels a little like throwing a tantrum, but instead he just groans loudly. “I hate you. I hope you know that.”

“No you don’t,” Ronnie smiles.

And yeah, she’s right. He doesn’t. 

Him and Ronnie have been friends for almost as far back as John can remember. They’d first met back when they were both in primary school, immediately becoming inseparable. For a long time she was John’s only friend; he was shy and awkward and painfully insecure, and so was she, and together they’d gotten on like a house on fire. They’d even dated for a few years in secondary school (back before either of them realized they don’t exactly swing that way); they were each other’s prom dates, first kisses, first times; Ronnie helped him though the death of his dad when he was eleven, and John’s mum took Ronnie in when she came out to her parents and things didn’t go as well as she’d hoped. Ronnie even helped John get this job at the café when he was down on his luck a couple of years ago and struggling to find work. He owes her everything, and he would do absolutely anything for her, no questions asked.

“You’re right, I don’t,” he grumbles, and Ronnie’s smile widens.

“Now tell me what you want,” she says, “I haven’t got all day.”

* * *

John leaves the shop a few minutes later, a paper bag and two iced coffees in hand. It seems to have gotten hotter, somehow, in the 15 minutes he spent inside the café. It’s too hot, it seems, for people to even be out, and on the short walk to the record shop John only passes a few people, most everybody else undoubtedly holed up in their homes to escape the suffocating heat.

By the time he gets to the record shop John feels sweaty and gross and overheated, and the cool air that hits him once he steps through the door is almost enough to make him cry with relief. Roger is sitting behind the counter looking rather bored, but once he looks up and sees that it’s John his expression turns into a wide grin. He sits up a little straighter as John approaches.

“Finally,” he teases, pulling out the second stool behind the counter for John to take a seat. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re welcome,” John says, bending down to give him a quick kiss before sitting down beside him.

Roger rolls his eyes. “Thank you baby,” he says, leaning over to give John a big smacking kiss on the cheek, before accepting his iced coffee from John. “Did you get the food too?”

John holds up the little paper bag.

“Oh, thank god,” Roger says, taking it from him and reaching inside. “I’m bloody starving.” He hands John his bagel, before unwrapping his own and immediately taking a bite. “Oh, fuck,” he moans. “That’s good.”

His mouth is full of bagel, and it isn’t exactly an erotic sight, but John can’t help the way Roger’s moan make something stir deep between his hips. He isn’t proud of it, but he supposes that’s what happens when you get all worked up with no release. He pushes down the feeling and focuses on eating.

It isn’t until a few minutes later that John notices the shop is all but empty— not only are there no customers milling about, he hasn’t even seen a second employee to work the shop with Roger.

“Are you on alone?” he asks curiously. 

Roger hums, still chewing. He’s got a bit of cream cheese on the corner of his lip, and really John shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does. And then Roger’s tongue darts over to lick it away, and John feels his cheeks heat up just a little.

“Yeah,” Roger says once he swallows. “You know the way my stupid boss has been trying to save money lately by cutting back on just about everything that makes my job a little easier?” John nods. “Well apparently that includes only having one person working the shop outside of ‘peak hours.’”

John’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that even legal?”

“Apparently,” Roger shrugs. “So I’m here alone til Crystal starts at twelve.”

John shakes his head. Roger’s boss truly is awful. He’s never given a shit about any of his employees, only about making money any way he can. John has never been much of a fighter, but after everything the guy has put Roger through, John is pretty sure he’d punch his lights out if given half the chance.

“At least it isn’t very busy,” he tries halfheartedly.

Roger nods, taking a long sip of his iced coffee. “I suppose so, yeah.”

John watches him carefully. At this point in their relationship, he can read Roger like an open book. A year and a half of dating has certainly helped with that, but Roger has never been particularly hard for John to read anyway, always wearing his emotions on his sleeve. With the tension in Roger’s shoulders and the way he’s rubbing his shoulder under the collar of his shirt, John can tell that something is bothering him.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

Roger glances over at him, before rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing,” he grumbles, although he doesn’t try especially hard to hide that is, in fact, something.

John gives him a pointed look, and after a long moment of staring at his lap, Roger looks up to meet his eyes. He looks tired and irritated and frustrated, and something is clearly eating at him. John scoots his stool a little closer, facing Roger and opening his knees so Roger’s can fit in between, and then opens his arms.

Roger gives him a small smile, leaning forward to slump into John’s chest with a sigh. He wraps his arms around John’s middle, relaxing even further against him when John loops his arms around him in return, rubbing a hand up and down his back. John hums softly, leaning to rest his head on top of Roger’s and closing his eyes. They’re still sitting behind the register, and John normally isn’t very big on public displays of affection, but they’re the only ones there anyway. Besides, something is bothering Roger, and as a general rule John’s drive to comfort and care for his boyfriend when he’s upset easily overrides his social anxiety and his aversion to showing affection in public.

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asks finally.

Roger groans loudly into his chest, the sound muffled against his shirt. “It’s stupid,” he mumbles, before pulling away to sit up.

“You’re upset about it, that means it isn’t stupid,” John points out.

Roger grunts, staring down at his hands. “It’s just— this absolute arsehole customer I had earlier,” he says finally. “He was already waiting by the door when I got here, apparently he’d been waiting for us to open since before nine this morning, and then of course I was _late_ , and he was just… _god_ , he was such a prick about it. He was one of those entitled, boomer types too— he must’ve been at least seventy— and he wouldn’t stop going on about how unprofessional it was for me to be late to open the shop, how his time is valuable and clearly I ‘don’t value his time as a paying customer’— as if I was late this morning on purpose specifically to fuck with him, right?”

“What a prick,” John chimes in, just to be a good supportive boyfriend.

_“Right?”_ Roger exclaims, running a hand through his already unruly hair. “Jesus. I really thought for a second that I was gonna punch him square in his smug fucking face Deaky, I really did.” He shakes his head. “Oh, and _then_ — then he started running his mouth about how I ‘look just as unprofessional as my behaviour,’ whatever the fuck that means. How my haircut is unprofessional and my sneakers are unprofessional and my _makeup_ is unprofessional— even though I’m not even wearing any, this is just my face!”

Now John wants to punch this guy, too.

“What a tool,” he snorts. “What was _he_ wearing, khaki shorts?”

Roger smacks the counter. “Yes! He was! And a golf polo tucked _into_ his khaki shorts. Seriously, what does he think gives _him_ the right to criticize the way _I_ look? Crusty old arsehole.”

“I’m sorry he said those things,” John tells him.

Roger shakes his head, shrugging him off. “I don’t even mind that so much, it’s not like his opinion matters to me. I actually think I look pretty good today, all things considered.”

“I would tend to agree,” John nods solemnly. “So what is it then?”

Roger grimaces. “It’s that he said he’d be writing to my manager to ‘have a discussion’ about my ‘unacceptable behaviour.’”

“Oh,” John says eloquently. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And Reid’s been looking for any way excuse to cut costs, so…”

John pauses for a beat, and then sighs. “Shit,” he repeats.

Roger nods, picking at a loose thread on his denim jacket.

“I’m sorry Rog,” John says finally. “Who knows, maybe the old geezer won’t even be able to figure out the website to find Reid’s email.”

Roger laughs a little, and John counts it as a minor success.

“Maybe,” Roger shrugs. “Or maybe I’ll just get sacked.”

John watches him tug at the loose thread, pulling and pulling until John reaches over to take Roger’s hand in his to stop him before he ends up tearing a hole in his favourite jacket. “Maybe,” he concedes. “But you hate this job, maybe that wouldn’t entirely be a bad thing?”

Roger leans into his shoulder. “I guess.”

He’s quiet then for a little while. John just sits there and plays with Roger’s fingers, giving him time to think.

“Plus—” Roger says finally, sitting up to look at him, his voice having suddenly taken on a playful sort of tone, “— _somebody_ left me hanging this morning, and I’ve been half-hard ever since with nothing to do about it!”

“I’m sorry!” John laughs, covering his face with his hands. “You know I didn’t mean to.”

Roger is laughing as he shoulders John lightly. “I’ve been horny all bloody morning thanks to you,” he says, and John honest to god _giggles_.

“You know,” John says after a moment, “there’s nobody else here. Who’s to say I couldn’t… help you out right now?”

Roger’s eyes widen just a fraction. He wets his lips. “Really?”

“Mhm,” John nods, leaning a little closer into his space and settling his hand on Roger’s thigh. He hears Roger’s breath hitch quietly, and he smiles to himself, sliding his hand further up to the bulge in Roger’s jeans. “We could go in back if you’d like,” he says softly, meeting Roger’s eyes. “Finish what we started this morning? I’ll even let you fuck my face, if you want to.” He squeezes Roger’s cock through his jeans, palming him so slowly and feeling him start to harden under his hand.

“Christ, Deaky,” Roger breathes.

“Would you like that?”

And then, as terrible, terrible luck would have it, the bell above the door rings, and John jumps away just in time for a new customer to walk into the shop. She gives them both a tight-lipped smile, before heading straight towards the country section.

Roger groans heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

“Sorry,” John grimaces. He feels horribly guilty, getting Roger all interested once again only to have the possibility of getting off unceremoniously ripped out from under him for the second time that day.

“I’m never getting off today,” Roger laments. “It’s my birthday and we can’t even find time for a lousy blowjob.”

“First of all, my blowjobs are never lousy and I’m offended that you would even suggest that they are,” John tells him. “But more importantly, it’s your _birthday_. I’m obviously going to get you off at _some_ point today. I know that for a fact, because honestly if I don’t get you inside me at some point soon I’m probably going to die.”

Roger snorts. “Romantic.”

“When am I not?”

Roger laughs then, and a second later John joins in. It isn’t long though before the woman who came in wanders up to the cash to ask if they carry any Dolly Parton, and Roger gets up to help her, leaving John alone.

John pulls out his phone and checks Instagram, waiting for Roger to finish with the customer, but as soon as the woman leaves, another customer comes in. And then another. And then an entire group of pre-teens who won’t quit shriek-laughing as if they don’t know they’re in a bloody _record shop_ , and if they’re giving _John_ a headache then he can’t imagine what they’re doing to Roger’s mood.

There’s a rush then, it seems, the once empty shop now filled with customers, and while Roger plasters on that winning smile as he helps people find what they’re looking for and darts to the stockroom to check for things and tries to keep on top of the ever-growing line-up, John can see past the cracks in his facade as he quickly becomes more and more irritated and overwhelmed. He tries to stay out of the way, but before long realizes he’s only being distracting, so he gathers his things and gives Roger a quick kiss on the cheek as he leaves to head back to the café for his shift.

* * *

The first hour of John’s shift goes by quickly. 

Ronnie is still there, and together they blow through the lunch rush with ease, joking around and shooting the shit. But before John knows it one o’clock hits, and Ronnie is running outside to meet Dom where she’s pulled over outside the shop with one last apology and an “I’ll see you around 8:30!” 

John frowns. “Dinner starts at 8:30, you’re meeting us at the flat at 8:00.”

“Yes, yes,” Ronnie waves him off.

“Don’t be late!”

“I _won't!_ ” She rolls her eyes, throwing him a peace sign as she shoulders open the door. John watches her run to Dom’s car and slide into the passenger seat, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek before Dom drives off. 

John sighs. Four more hours to go.

“We’re going to dinner tonight?” Prenter asks, coming up behind him.

John has to fight not to roll his eyes. Five bloody words and the guy is already making John’s blood boil.

“We are,” John mutters, “you’re not.” He walks away before Prenter has the chance to say anything else, busying himself with cleaning a spill on the counter.

The shop only seems to get busier as they get further into the afternoon. Throngs of people filter in off the streets for a reprieve from the heat, and John doesn’t stop running around until 5:00 hits and his shift is finally, blessedly over. By the time he’s back in the break room, taking off his apron and getting ready to leave, he’s in a rather foul mood. He’s sweaty, his hair is a mess, his feet are aching, and he reeks of coffee beans _._ Even during the rush, Prenter never once shut up about god knows what, and John’s head is absolutely pounding.

Yeah, Ronnie _definitely_ owes him a drink, Jada’s birthday party be damned.

The heat outside still hasn’t calmed down by the time John leaves the café, and despite the walk home being fairly short, by the time he’s climbing the stairs up to the flat he’s positively drenched in sweat. He’s looking forward to the cool air inside their flat, but when he swings open the door the first thing he’s met with is a wall of heat, followed by a string of curse words from Roger. He has to resist the urge to cry.

“Everything alright?” he asks warily, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“The bloody aircon unit shit the bed again,” Roger grumbles. 

He’s taken the unit out of the window and is sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, shirtless, with the thing laid in front of him. Various screws and parts have been removed, and are now scattered haphazardly on the floor around him. He looks nothing short of wild, if John is being honest; flushed with the heat and covered in sweat, his hair sticking up in all directions like he’s been running his hands through it.

“I can tell,” John says dryly, throwing his backpack down beside the door and making his way across the room. He can barely breathe, the air in the flat so hot and so humid. “When did it stop working?”

Roger shrugs, tossing a random screw onto the ground. “It’s been like this since I got back an hour ago. I dunno if it happened earlier or just sometime after Fred and Bri left.”

John takes a seat on the floor opposite Roger, turning the unit towards himself. “It might just be…” he mumbles to himself, trailing off as he pries open the hatch takes a peek inside.

“Hm?”

“Well last time it stopped working it just turned out to be that the filter was clogged up, which is an easy fix. So I’m _hoping_ that it’s just… ah.”

Roger’s eyes widen. “What?”

“It’s the filter,” John confirms, yanking it out. Roger leans over to get a look, wrinkling his nose when he sees it covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime.

“Gross.”

John hums in agreement. “It just needs to be cleaned. Well, it should really be replaced, that’s why it keeps clogging up, but for now a cleaning will have to do.”

“You can do it then? You’re good at this sort of stuff, engineering student and all that.”

John snorts. “It’s just cleaning a filter babe, you don’t exactly need to be in engineering to figure it out. You could even do it yourself, if you want to.”

Roger barks out a laugh. “No thank you,” he sighs, rising to his feet with a stretch. “It’s my birthday, remember? I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

He says it so smugly that John would be rolling his eyes if he wasn’t so distracted by the sight of him all shirtless and tan and sweaty like this, arms raised above his head with his back arched into a stretch. When Roger catches him looking he just shoots him a pleased grin.

“Are you sure?” John prompts, waving the dirty filter up at him. “I could teach you. Couples bonding or whatever.”

Roger laughs, pushing his hand away and bending to drop a kiss to the top of his head as he walks past. “No thank you darling, I think I’ll go grab a nice cold shower instead while _you_ take care of it, and then by the time I’m done you’ll have everything all fixed up.”

John just shakes his head and watches Roger wander off down the hall and into the bathroom. “I’m only letting you get away with this because it’s your birthday,” he calls after him.

“I’ll take it!” Roger shouts back, his voice coming muffled through the door, followed by the sound of the shower turning on. 

John sighs heavily, and gets to work.

It doesn’t take him long to actually get the filter clean. There’s only so much he can do with it to begin with, it really does just need to be replaced. He’s been meaning to make a trip down to the hardware store to pick up a new one for weeks now, but between everything that’s been going on he just hasn’t found the time. If it keeps acting up though, he supposes he’ll have to make it a priority. For now, he just gets the filter as clean as he can and hopes it’ll buy them another few weeks before he has to go down to the shop.

All things considered, a clogged filter is usually a pretty quick fix, and it only takes him about ten minutes to get the thing decently clean and back inside the unit. But of course Roger, in his infinite wisdom— or, more likely, frustration— had removed the entire aircon unit from the window in his earlier attempts to fix it, leaving John with the much lengthier and more difficult task of reinstalling it.

By the time he’s finally got the aircon unit screwed safely back into the window, Roger is long since out of the shower, and John is significantly sweatier than he was when he first walked into the flat a half hour ago. Roger eventually pads back into the living room, clean and fresh with damp hair and dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs and an open button down, only a few minutes after John has finally gotten the cold air flowing again.

“You fixed it?” Roger asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, thank christ.” He crosses the room in record time and stands himself directly in front of the unit, closing his eyes and sighing in relief as he lets the cool air blow over his face. “Fuck, that’s nice.”

“Christ had nothing to do with it,” John tells him, and Roger snorts.

“Well thank _you_ then.”

John only smiles, puckering his lips exaggeratedly and leaning in for a kiss. 

Roger— as expected— makes a face.

“You’re so sweaty,” he says, wrinkling his nose and taking a step back.

“Am I?” John teases, his smile widening as he grabs Roger’s arm to pull him in. Roger squeals, squirming away and laughing as John leans closer to try to kiss him again.

“You’re disgusting,” Roger complains as he manages to wiggle out of John’s grasp. He’s trying to act put out, but the fond grin on his face gives him away easily. “You stink, go take a bloody shower.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“We’ll see.”

John throws his head back in a laugh, finally heading down the hall to the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i'm canadian and as such i have never needed to own a window air conditioner lmao so if any of that information was glaringly wrong please just ignore it hahahaha
> 
> anyway, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter!! the next (and final) chapter is pretty much just gonna be straight up porn soooo look out for that coming soon :^)


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